RfH Ch. 01: That Thing in the Corner

[Welcome to the first chapter of the "Roomate from Hell" (RfH) series: "That Thing in the Corner."]

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I should have never stayed. From the very first day I set foot in that awful place, I should have known there was something wrong. But it was cheap rent, and the only thing available in the area on such short notice. Sometimes I ask myself if it's worth dealing with the crappy roommate, the constant sense of dread, and what ever the hell that thing in the corner is supposed to be.

I must have looked like a maniac when I first saw it, that day the landlord took me up to this apartment to go over the rules, introduce me to my co-tenant, and give me a key. Right as the manager opened the door I could immediately see it sitting, no, not sitting, festering in the living room. Despite that, he just went on showing the room as if nothing was wrong.

I stood shocked in the doorway. Surely what ever it was, could not be normal. It filled the corner of the living room from floor to roof. Pieces of it were sprawled across the entire floor where they seemed to almost writhe imperceptibly. The trunk, body, or core mass of the thing was breathing softly, and it's bark, skin, or surface was moist and organic.

As I stood there, I noticed that the landlord was looking at me expectantly. It seemed that he was trying to introduce me to my new roommate; Melissa. They both stared impatiently, both completely unaware, or at least apathetic to the thing menacing silently from the corner. And that's when I realized that I was the only person who could see it. Not wanting to look like a lunatic, I introduced myself, and went on with the tour, desperately looking for the right time to broach the subject.

Even if I'd had the initiative to say something then, what could possibly be the appropriate way to address concerns with an imaginary monster that only I could see? I don't think that's covered in the renter's rights. So I said nothing, and sure enough I was moved in before I knew it.

I held out a cautious optimism that I wasn't going crazy, that this was just an elaborate prank by the landlord and the co-tenant, but as the days wore on, it was clear that they didn't find anything funny about it. I tried inviting friends over to see if they could see it, and got consistently inconclusive results.

They were just like my roommate and manager in that they were unable to perceive it, but that isn't to say that they couldn't tell it was there. They never wanted to stay around long, and quickly became uncomfortable the more they lingered. They never looked directly at it, as if avoiding eye contact. When I tried to point it out, they could only glance nervously. Even then, it was impossible to miss with those limbs draped everywhere, so it was safe to assume that it remained invisible to them as well.

I didn't really have time to put its ability to negate perception to the test because the sense of dread it imposed over all those who entered was consistent in its effect to keep people away from it. I wasn't comfortable around it either, and would quickly dash into my room to avoid the gaze of those eye-like facets growing out of fleshy tissue of the figure.

But even in my room I felt like I wasn't alone. There was a dark patch of mold or something growing out of the roof in the corner. That same corner whose walls contained that thing growing out of it on the other side. Even when I was alone, I couldn't shake the feeling like I was being watched from that brackish spot, so close and similar in hue to that thing in the living room, just beyond those thin layers of drywall. I couldn't get it out of my head, that on the other side of my bedroom wall, that thing was sitting there. Waiting. Watching. Taking root. Sometimes I thought I saw some of those ocular growths gazing at me from that dark growth on the roof. Most of the time, I pretended that I didn't see it at all. It made it impossible to relax or get any alone time in my own house.

Pretty soon its effects on me were beginning to show. It wasn't long before my friends were just as uncomfortable around me outside the apartment, as they were in it. Strangers and coworkers avoided me, and it was impossible to get a date. Eventually I became isolated, my only contact out of work being my roommate, who just made things worse.

As if that thing in the corner wasn't bad enough, my roommate just happened to be lazy, reclusive, and a total bitch. She would never lift a finger to do any cleaning, often leaving her dishes and laundry around the place for days. I tried confronting her on it at first, but she had the audacity to just tell me to "deal with it" and retreat to her room every time. I didn't want to stay in that in the same room as that thing any longer than I had to, so the living room quickly became messy and neglected.

I tried connecting with her and being friendly, but she wouldn't have any of it. She rarely left her room, never went outside, and never had any guests.

I tried knocking once. She cracked the door open only enough for me to see the venomous intent from her eyes.

"Don't ever knock on this door again. If you ever come in here with out my permission, I will kill you." She told me before slamming the door in my face.

Bad manners aside, I just couldn't understand why an attractive woman of her body type wouldn't have a boyfriend, and believe me, I was painfully aware of her body type.

When she wasn't hiding in her room, she would lounge around on the couch in her underwear and watch TV. Her dingy panties would get saturated with sweat and show off the cleft of her pussy through the cheap fabric. All of her bra straps had worn out, and would hang low on her chest; surrendering to the time and tension of enduring such a mammoth burden for so long.

I tried not to look, but she would go weeks with out showering, and the whole living room began to unignorably smell like woman. Even with out looking, the scent of her nearly naked body invaded my head unconsensually, and forced my mind to see her curvature in explicit detail whether I looked or not. This made the absence of any dating life, as well as the inability to find a comfortable place to attend to my masculine urges, even worse.

With nowhere to bring any adult guests, and my increasingly disheveled appearance, my slight dry spell was turning into an extended drought. I couldn't even jack off. Believe me, I tried. But that thing growing out of the roof seemed to get more active every time I attempted to have a little "me time," and I swear I saw it move once.

So that's how it was. For the longest time, I just went to work, and came home to sleep. Slowly losing my sanity, and wondering if I had gone mad already. I found my thoughts drifting, less so towards the thing in the corner, but towards that damn roommate. I hated her. I hated the way her ass would lazily swish as she wandered around the house. I hated how she pretended to not see the thing in the corner. I hated the way she pretended not to see me. I hated her stupid sexy face. I wanted to do things to her. Dark things. Painful things. As time wore on, I knew it was just a matter of time before I snapped and did something unforgivable, a permanent harm from which there could be no recovery. To her, to myself, or maybe even both.

I could feel the edges of my resolve cracking. I knew something had to change soon, or my broken mind was going to take charge and force it to change, and she wasn't going to like the way it did things.

I was in the middle of one of these malicious reveries when I came home that night. I opened the door expecting the smell of dirty laundry and rotting food to waft over me, but instead, found the place completely cleaned. I walked into the living room, surprised and confused by the sudden change. That horrible thing was still in the corner, but it's slimy appendages were a lot more conservatively placed, as if politely attempting to confine themselves to a singular corner of madness. Maybe my roommate had a change of heart and realized how much of a bitch she was being. Maybe she wanted to make it up to me. Maybe I could spin this to my advantage and get some apology head from her...

That last one was unlikely, but my balls were aching, and hope for a peaceful solution to their increasingly urgent release was one of the few things keeping me sane.

Sure enough, Melissa came out of her room clothed for once, she actually looked really nice.

She had on a velvety black sequin dress that clung to her figure like a shadow. The skirt came down to her knees, and the blouse portion had an extended bust going down to her waist. She stood there glimmering in the doorway of her room as I stood there flabbergasted. I smiled as she turned to face me, but she did not smile back.

"I have company tonight. Stay in your room." She ordered.

I couldn't believe it. I'd been living with her for weeks now with out her lifting a finger to take care of the place, and now she makes the entire place spotless for this asshole?!

"I didn't realize you had any friends." I replied spitefully.

"There's a lot of things about me you don't realize." She muttered absently as she adjusted her dress to sit nicely on her breasts and show off just enough of her mid-cleavage with out falling out of place.

"Oh? Such as what?!" I responded, trying to keep my voice down as my firsts clenched. She glanced up at me impatiently.

"Things that boys like you are not meant to know." She answered dismissively.

Forget sex. I was about ready to smash that stupid beautiful face of hers. To blacken those onyx eyes that seemed to stare right through me. To split those gorgeous crimson lips. To put bruises on that perfect silky skin glowing like the moon through that ebony dress.

"Yeah well..." I began, as I took a step towards her.

"Well what?" She interrupted, catching me ajar.

"Well I..." I tried to retort.

"Well I think you were just heading to your room." She finished.

I was so close snapping. I had almost worked up the courage to put my hands on her and not stop until I could get her smug voice out of my head, but the moment was ruined. I felt so helpless. For all my strength, and all anger, she was completely unphased. I felt completely helpless and as I stood there fuming, my senses were starting to pour into the awkward silence left in its place.

I am not a violent man. I have never beat a women in my life. This wasn't me. How had I let things get this bad? How had I let this petty woman push me so far?

Taking a deep breath, I unclenched my fists and made my choice. She was a bad roommate, that's for sure. But she was not a bad person. Certainly not the monster I was becoming. I had plenty of money saved up, no one was keeping me here against my will. It wasn't her fault I was in such bad shape, it wasn't even the fault of that thing in the corner. I could have left at any time, it was my fault for choosing to stay in such an unhealthy environment, and my choice had almost caused me to do something unthinkable.

"Have fun with your date." I offered, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice as I cowered back to my room.

"Whatever." She snickered as I shut the door.

I pretended her remark didn't hurt me. I pretended to be ok as I picked up the paper and began looking for a new room to rent. I can admit I felt low. I hadn't felt this low in while. Not since the accident. Before it happened, I had never known how a badly a single mistake could hurt a man, and to this day, I still haven't gotten over it. I don't like to talk about it.

This might not have been as bad as I felt back then, but it was a close second. I was about to pick up my highlighter and start circling ad's when I heard a knock at the front door. Melissa's date no doubt.

I felt a sour sense of vindication towards this man. While he was dating my hot roommate, he didn't know how much of a bitch she was. She was so abrupt and stand offish, that I don't think any guy could even get close to her. Chuckling to myself, I maliciously visualized the frustration of some other man expecting to get laid, only to be put through all the same crap I'd been through. "At least she took a shower and cleaned up the living room so everything doesn't reek of crotch stank." I admitted begrudgingly. He would have the advantage of keeping his mind free of that acrid, yet intoxicating stench.

Muttering to myself with a smirk, I set the paper down and took a look out the keyhole of my bedroom door to see how the disaster was progressing. I wanted to see what sort of loser would subject himself to such an awful person just to get some pussy. At least that's what I told myself. Deep down, some part of me expected to see... something. I wasn't sure what, but I would never have predicted what actually happened.

Much to my jealous chagrin, things started out perfectly normal. The man was dressed up to match her own formal night gown, and he was good looking too. He acted like a perfect gentlemen, and she acted like a genuine lady. She had been capable of being a decent human being the whole time, yet had deliberately chosen not to be one to me! "Who is this asshole, and why does he deserve her attention?" I fumed in impotent silence from behind the door.

This fop's bank account was showing, as he revealed a wine bottle just as expensive as the clothes he wore, and they wasted no time pulling out wine glasses from the cupboard and serving some. They both sat down on the couch, and began to mingle casually.

"Unless he has a chauffeur downstairs, he'd better slow down to avoid a DUI." I joked to myself. But as they continued to sit there chatting while they poured out seconds, the truth began to set in: They weren't going anywhere.

What kind of man shows up in a suit, just to sit in someone else apartment? What kind of woman dresses up like that for a dine-in date? Sickeningly, I began to ask myself: "Is my roommate a prostitute?"

No sooner had I thought the question, when the possibilities began flooding into my head uncontrollably. Had I been wasting all this time getting frustrated when I could have just paid that whore to crack her legs the whole time? How much would she charge? Would she accept payment in the form of covering her share of the rent?

I kept reminding myself how much of a bad roommate she had been to me, and telling myself I didn't want it. But the sore erection in my pants wanted to run out the door and beg this man for his sloppy seconds. I wanted to offer every cent of my paycheck just to get a few minutes of those luscious crimson lips wrapped around me where I needed it most.

I knew it was wrong to keep watching. But sure enough, I didn't look away. I barely even blinked when he put his arm around her and their lips met. I was running out of excuses as my hand drifted below my waist, and their sexual advances intensified.

The bust of Melissa's sequined night gown provided easy access, allowing the man to effortlessly brush aside the breast flap and flex his manicured hands amorously across her voluptuous chest. I nearly gasped as she moaned in response to his masculine touch.

With out looking, she lecherously reached between his legs and began rubbing his member through the tailored dress pants. I imagined the same hand as I quickened my own rubbing through my jeans.

With a smile, he unzipped his pants to reveal his erection, well amassed with fortune. Unbidden, and unrestrained, she adjusted herself to his lap, and lowered her face onto his excessive manhood, accepting the entirety into the embrace of her cruel, yet beautiful lips.

The stranger grunted contently on the couch as she expertly serviced him with out reserve or complaint. Slipping his member out of her mouth with a seductive pop, she whipped out her tongue and began teasing his glans, as he played with her chest. Taking those massive, well maintained hands, he gently grabbed the back of her head, and roughly rammed her head down onto his shaft, repeatedly smashing himself painfully into her throat. I delighted in the sound of her gagging. Her hair was tossed and mangled by her suitor's forceful shoves. Holding her down so far her lips nearly touched his balls, he waited for her to run out of air and begin to struggle while he throbbed in her mouth.

Finally releasing her, he stood up and removed the rest of his clothes while she gasped to catch her breath. I took this time to unzip my pants, releasing my desperate penis into my placating grasp. Fully peeping on them, I saw him rip the fabric of her precious dress apart to expose her entire upper body, before throwing her down on the couch and lifting her skirt. Bringing her legs up to his head, he set an ankle on each shoulder before grabbing her hips and inserting himself.

Melissa arched her back and moaned somewhat painfully as he wasted no time violently thrusting into her. He smirked at her amorous whimpers, but she wasn't far behind him in sexual performance.

Matching his rhythm, she began to thrust and buck her hips while moaning provocatively. The man's face contorted angrily as he redoubled his efforts to satiate this woman before reaching his climax. She was certainly getting into it, and would say as much in terms like "feels good," "give it to me," and "so close!" But never that crucial; "I'm cumming."

Gradually, her pelvic rhythm fell out of sync, turning into more of a twitching ecstasy than an intentional rocking. Seeing his moment to make a move, the man quickened his pace, throwing everything he had into every ferocious thrust. Quaking and kicking, she quivered silently as she was unmistakably pushed over the line into orgasm. Groaning bestially, the man gripped her hips forcefully and mashed them into his manhood as it pulsated and spurted inside of her.

They remained there twitching and grunting as their fiery climax began to fade. At long last, the man sighed contently and rolled over onto the couch next to her. Melissa told him that she needed some water, but toppled to the floor when she tried to get up. Giggling at her clumsiness, she stumbled over to the kitchen with her legs still wobbling from the heavy fucking she had received moments ago.

The man fiddled with the whine bottle as she made it to the kitchen and braced herself on the sink. It looked like things were wrapping up as expected, when suddenly the stranger stopped playing with the whine and grabbed it. Gripping the neck firmly, he stood up and faced Melissa with silent deliberation. With out a sound, he crept across the living room into the kitchen. Lifting the bottle above his head, his muscles tensed for a swing with all of his strength behind it. A sadistic look in his eyes spread across his face, I had to ask myself: "Is he actually trying to kill her? And why is the thought of that making me even harder?"

I felt sick. Sickened by what I was watching, sickened by my pathetic reaction to it, but this was the closest I'd come to getting off in an entire month thanks to this bitch and that freak in the corner, so I wasn't about to stop, even if she had to suffer for it. Even if she had to die.

I braced myself for impact with my masturbatory pace only barely slowed, when suddenly Melissa whipped around to face him, lashing out violently. It was over so suddenly that I barely had time to register what had happened. One moment she had been standing there, back exposed, at the mercy of her adult guest, when suddenly she was holding a massive, jagged dagger, dripping with the blood of her would-be attacker.

We all stood still for a moment as he dropped the whine bottle to the floor with a wet, shattering crash. Even I stopped my feverish stroking, unable to believe this sudden turn of events, though my erection remained ever vigilant.

The man's face showed an understandable bewilderment. I get the feeling him and I were wondering some similar questions, like "where did that knife come from?"